A 6-foot-tall man stopped him at the mall one day and said, “I was Tiny Tim” in the early ’80s.

That type of encounter isn’t strange anymore for John-David “J.D.” Keller, who has directed South Coast Repertory’s “A Christmas Carol” since its inaugural season in 1980.

Keller’s favorite aspect of the show – and one of the reasons the performance is so special – is the cast of 16 children that rotate each year. Local kids play members of the Cratchit family and supporting roles, with some children sharing the same family offstage as well. They endear audience members, many of whom return year after year.

“‘A Christmas Carol’ does not exist without the children,” said Keller, who also acts nearly every season. “They’re the new blood that comes into the show.”

It’s not an easy job playing one of the kids’ roles, as we found out behind the scenes. The children rehearse every day for a month and less frequently for another month. Some trip and fall onstage – in front of 450 people. Half of them work Christmas Eve.

“It’s a huge commitment,” said Melissa Harris, mother of 8-year-old Zacharias Harris, one of two Tiny Tims in this year’s cast.

But it pays off. At least one actor went on to Broadway and television. Others, like this reporter (aka Tiny Tim), will never forget their “Christmas Carol” experiences.

BIG TALES FROM A TINY TIM

Kids crave attention. And I got it at age 6 when 450 people oogled over me each night. Who is more adorable than Tiny Tim Cratchit in Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”?

Today, 26 years later, I cling to my few lines of fame. Ask my girlfriend. Never mind it was my only professional production; I tell her I was a child star.

It was at a Tony Award-winning theater (I’m sure to drop that in any conversation about my stardom).

And, I was discovered. My drama teacher at Newport Elementary knew the director, so she recruited me and another Tim for the audition.

Since then, SCR has established a conservatory, and “A Christmas Carol’s” 16 child actors are selected from a pool of about 500 students.

I’m sure my innocence in 1986 was much more pure than today’s seasoned hands. That’s at least what I thought until I talked with Zach Harris, one of this year’s Tims. (“It’s kind of neat,” he tells me.)

It was neat. Little memories have popped into my mind while working on this story: the time I had hiccups backstage, and Bob Cratchit, Tim’s dad, made me drink from a water glass upside down. My crush on Belinda Cratchit, Tim’s older sister (can 6-year-olds even have crushes?).

And dinner with my real family on the show’s last night. We gathered at the since-shuttered Ambrosia, a name I’ll always associate with a warm, truly special occasion.

I went backstage recently with director J.D. Keller, who has been in charge since the show’s inception 33 years ago. I noticed many things seemed smaller and less grand: the green room, the dressing room. But isn’t that how it always seems?

Watching the play with my girlfriend, Darin, last week brought it all back. Hearing Tim hit his lines (or her lines in this case), I remember sitting with my dad and highlighting my parts on a script. There’s one scene where Tim has a flurry of lines, but for most of the play he’s quiet or offstage.

My grandma tells me I belted out the most important line, “God bless us, every one!” But isn’t that what grandmas are supposed to do – tell you you’re a star?

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